


Please, God, Let Me Live

by whatswithmegan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Execution, Gen, Kidnapping, Starving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatswithmegan/pseuds/whatswithmegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are kidnapped by Moriarty, and given one simple rule: first one to talk gets to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please, God, Let Me Live

**Author's Note:**

> Dieboredom requested:  
> Sherlock and John are stuck in a room. The first one to speak lives whilst the other is executed in front of them. Have Fun!

John didn't remember a thing. Where he was, where he had come from – nothing. He blinked his eyes against the dim lights of the room, looking around to see … nothing. One door, one window, one Sherlock. John let out a soft gasp, looking at Sherlock's near lifeless form lying on his side. He crawled over to the figure, his head pounding. “Sher-” he tried to speak, but the words came out slurred, his tongue feeling abnormally thick. “Sher...” he put his hand on his flatmates side, feeling his lungs rise and fall with each breath. John let out a sigh, at least he wasn't dead.

He had been drugged, they both had, and brought here, to a desolate room in god knows where. He slowly made his way over to the door and reached up for the door handle, pulling on it with as much strength as he could muster before giving up. He was quick to fall asleep again.

By the time he came to, he and Sherlock were no longer alone in the room. The two were propped up against each other, using each other as back support, while a thin Moriarty stood above them. “Hello.” he sang, a wicked smile on his lips. “Now that you're both awake, we can finally get started.”

“If you-” John started before Jim cut him off.

“Ah, ah, ah. I haven't even gone over the rules of our little game yet.” he bent over slightly. “And you might want to pay attention, Johnny-boy.” he straightened back up, adjusting his tie. “There is only one rule, really, only one thing you need to know and that is that the first one to speak lives, while the other will be executed.”

There was a thick silence in the room as Jim's voice fell silence. He waved to the men and left the room, locking the door behind him. John leaned forward, turning to look at Sherlock, whose face had gone unexpectedly pale. Their eyes met and they nodded, a silent vow that neither of them would speak. Not until help came. John remembered that they had been on a particularly nasty case, and Lestrade would get worried if they were gone for too long. Judging by the light coming in from the window – if he could trust it – it had been 10 hours since they had been kidnapped.

Sherlock sat with his eyes focused on a speck of dirt on the floor, his eyelids fluttering occasionally. John knew he must be thinking about how they were to be rescued, or if that plan didn't succeed, how they were to escape. John came over and sat in front of him, taking his hands in his own and rubbed small circular patterns into the palms. Sherlock looked up at him and gave him a tired smile, leaning forward to rest his head on John's chest. _We're going to be alright..._ he thought, _Lestrade will come find us before anything can happen_. As if Sherlock could hear him, he nodded into John's chest and gave his hands a reassuring squeeze.

Nearly two days had passed, and John was beginning to feel the effects of hunger tear down his body. Sherlock mainly slept since their capture, which was a sight John wished he had seen more of in their flat. His stomach let out a loud noise and Sherlock flipped over, looking at him through sad eyes. He opened his mouth, _we're not getting out_ , he mouthed. John felt a tug at his heart, _we will_ , he mouthed back, crawling over to his slowly. _Please_ , he mouthed, _please_.

Sherlock sat up, his bones creaking obscenely. He knelt in front of John, placing his hands on either side of his face before pressing their lips together. John gasped into the kiss, his hands rising to hold Sherlock's sides. He kissed back, his tongue sliding into Sherlock's mouth. 

But John then pulled back quickly, as if he had been burnt. “John...” Sherlock croaked. It was a moment before he realized what had happened and he slouched his back, “Oh, god...”

John had tears spill from his eyes, “I'm so sorry Sherlock... Please, forgive me...”

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, “I won't let you die! Please!”

As the two embraced, a body guard came in and pulled John away from Sherlock, dragging him across the room. Sherlock tried to crawl after him but was given a brutal kick to the chest, tossing him back, “Please...” he begged, tears streaking down his dirty cheeks. Moriarty came up behind Sherlock, combing his fingers through the man's curly hair, holding his head up to watch the scene before them. 

John say up straight, his coat and trousers a dirty mess, but he was no longer crying. His eyes were red rimmed, but the expression was that of a soldier. A man who had faced death a million times. A brave man. He let out a long sigh, as the body guard revealed a long blade. John's eyes locked with Sherlock's, “If you were dying, in your last moment, what would you say?”

There was a sick sound of blade slicing through skin as the man tore the soldier open. Sherlock let out a howling wail, doubling over as John's lifeless body fell to the floor. He coughed, tears blurring his vision, he was gone... he was alone.


End file.
